The Last Dance
by Ante Down
Summary: Tonight, the Eighth Doctor prepares for the end of the war. Tomorrow, the Ninth Doctor picks up the pieces. Now complete.
1. Tonight

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Tonight**

Inside the TARDIS the Doctor whirled in a solitary dance around the console, hair and coattails flying out behind him. Turn, turn, flip switch, step to the left, and another, and another, push button, long spin and a tricky piece of footwork, pull lever. And whenever the dance paused, he would talk to the empty air, voice as wild as his dance.

"Why, my dearest Romana, I am certainly not drunk!"

"I would certainly like to be."

"Tomorrow I die. So I may as well drink tonight. I will not have to worry about a hangover."

Pause. Delicate recalibration. It could not be done with moving feet.

"It's a good thing I never brought you here, Sarah-Jane. You truly are better off in Croydon."

"Oh, I know it's something new. And I know it's beautiful. But tomorrow it will be ashes in the vacuum of space. I have always found ashes and rocks floating in space to lack aesthetic appeal."

"What can I do but laugh, Sarah-Jane? It has to be done. And past that, nothing means anything. Nobody will know the difference afterwards anyway."

Finishing his recalibration, the Doctor abandoned his dance to thread wires from seemingly random terminal to seemingly random terminal.

"There is always method in the madness, Adric."

"It's creating a signal. Everything will burn. All the Dalek ships."

"Gallifrey too."

"Yes. Like…like…"

"What does it matter? I'll be seeing you soon."

He stood over a rectangular metal object, tampering with some controls, movement becoming wilder the longer he did not dance.

"I would have been glad for some of your nitro-nine, Ace."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Of course there's a plan."

The Doctor danced away again, a short respite from his work. It would take twelve hours, he reckoned. All night, the last night of the world.

"You said you could give me a day, Madam President."

"Of course I trust you."

"Did you announce this plan to the general population?"

"Ah. I see. Thank you."

"This is war. It is to be expected."

"Perhaps I would not have said that when I was younger. But when I was younger I also would not have even considered this."

"Gallifrey owes me nothing."

"Goodbye, Romana."

And finally it was finished, just before the dawn. The night was over. Literally and metaphorically. The Doctor returned to the smaller rectangular control panel, and placed his hand on a lever.

"Look, Susan. The end of the world. The fire will be so beautiful."

"…I suppose not."

"Yes. I will die. And so will everyone else."

"Don't worry. You will live."

"There, there. Don't cry. I said I had to leave you, back then. You cried then. You shouldn't cry for me again."

"Because the Daleks are evil."

"I can. I have to. Better that Time Lords and Daleks die than Time Lords die and Daleks live."

"Please try to understand me. This is not something I want."

"Yes. I love you too."

He stopped there, trying to forget what he could not help but remember. For the first time in twelve hours, the Doctor was motionless.

Then he pulled the lever.


	2. Tomorrow

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Tomorrow**

The Doctor woke up face down on the floor of his TARDIS, nose pressed into a crack in the flooring.

Why was there a crack in the flooring? There shouldn't be a crack there.

He rolled over with a groan.

His coat felt tight. Why would his coat feel tight? His cravat, too.

He looked at it, moving as little as possible. He felt very stiff, for some reason.

No substantial damage to the coat. Just a few rips and tears.

With a fair amount of effort, he propped himself up on his elbows. He invested a bit more effort, and sat up. More effort, and he stood. Yes. He could probably stand for a bit. He shrugged off his too-tight coat and loosened his cravat.

Why was he alive? There was no reason for him to be dead.

He looked around. The TARDIS was a mess. Panels missing everywhere, shards of teacups, and a lot of exposed wire.

The pieces of pottery would account for some of the smaller tears in his coat.

There was a rod with blood and brain matter on the floor near where his head had been.

So much wire. What was the wire for?

Something was missing.

What was missing?

His people were missing.

It felt very…solitary. All he could concentrate on was that frightening void in his mind where his people had been.

Think. Think.

Why were they missing?

What was the wire for?

Go back to the beginning.

Romana had said he had a day to implement his plan. He had returned to the TARDIS, presumably to prepare for or to carry out that plan. He had done so. Come on, connect the dots, Doctor…

You carried out 'the plan' and now your people are gone.

But that probably meant that…

No. No. …yes.

But there had to be a reason.

The Daleks. They had been approaching Gallifrey. So that was why…

He found he could not take that thought to its logical conclusion.

Why was he alive? He should have died in that explosion.

He found he wanted to have died.

He could remember now.

He'd been dancing, preparing for the end. He'd prepared for it.

He'd pulled the lever. The TARDIS had jerked. A metal rod, formerly secured to the wall by wire that he had pillaged for his device, had been thrown across the room. It had hit him right between the eyes. He had been 'killed' instantly.

But somehow, he had not been totally destroyed along with his people.

Why was that?

Oh, that was right. Any living being that had travelled in time would have been destroyed by his grand plan. He had not been living.

A chance in a million had saved him.

Death had saved him…from death.

How ironic.

More to the point, how wrong.

In some small way, causing that destruction had saved him.

He should be dead, not alive to dance again.

Suicide was not in this incarnation's nature. He would not die without a reason, and guilt was not a sufficient reason. So he'd just have to live. And not care if he died doing it.

The dancing issue was easily fixed. He wouldn't dance again, not until there was a reason to. People living, perhaps.

Maybe he should go to Earth again. They were so very alive there. He hadn't been to Krakatoa either. Or seen the JFK assassination. Maybe a trip on the Titanic too.

Oh, this was rather morbid. Never mind. It suited this incarnation. And besides, there would be people there, more alive in the face of death than he was with so much life in front of him.

He could help them live, too.

Right.

Off to go make sure people lived.


End file.
